


decisions

by unknowableroom_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Marauders' Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-01-11
Updated: 2009-01-11
Packaged: 2019-01-19 14:24:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12412014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unknowableroom_archivist/pseuds/unknowableroom_archivist
Summary: James Potter made three of the most important decisions of his life in the privacy of Albus Dumbledore’s office — three decisions to define who he would become, to impact what his future would hold, and above all, to intertwine lives in circumstances that offered nothing but repercussions.





	decisions

**Author's Note:**

> Note from ChristyCorr, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Unknowable Room](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Unknowable_Room), a Harry Potter archive active from 2005-2016. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after May 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Unknowable Room collection profile](http://www.archiveofourown.org/collections/unknowableroom).

 A/N: I don't really know where exactly this came from; it's something like a personal challenge. I've never written any of these characters - honestly, I've never even thought to try to write them. But I'm pleased with this.

 

"It's choice - not chance - that determines your destiny."– Jean Nidetch

 

decisions

 

Saturday, November 6th, 1976

 

James had only ever been in Professor's Dumbledore's office once before – a rather unimpressive achievement for a so-called mischief-maker. Then, there had been abnormal instruments tucked into every nook and cranny around the room; he remembered an exceptionally intriguing one that had screeched at him in a different language when he tried to touch it, specifically because it had amused him so greatly at the time.

Now, three years later, he could find nothing to laugh about.

Dumbledore had conjured three chairs across the desk from him. Snape had chosen the one on the right and – because he did not completely trust Sirius not to murder a Slytherin in front of the Headmaster – James had sat next to him.

Needless to say, it took only a few minutes for him to regret his decision. Although Dumbledore had graciously spaced the chairs out a little, he felt oddly trapped sitting between the two of them and listening to the insults and accusations they threw at each other over his head. He felt like screaming at both of them to shut up, screaming that they had both been bloody wrong in this situation – but he wouldn't.

He thought instead of Sirius eating his peanut butter sandwiches for lunch every day – a traitorous part of his mind thought that his ex-best-friend deserved to be expelled and to never eat one of those sandwiches again. He ignored it, because he was the goddamn freaking peanut butter in this situation and he hated peanut butter.

But he hated the situation even more because of who he was sandwiched between: two completely different people – no, if he really wanted to stick with his analogy, two completely different slices of bread that came from different loaves. He had never hated a sandwich more.

James wondered viciously if the two people he sat between were as different as he thought them to be. He knew the Snape family was associated with the Dark Arts, and the prestigious Black family had a similar reputation in the wizarding world.

But the trustworthy part of his mind argued that Sirius was not like his family. Barring his aristocratic features and barely-concealed mannerisms, he was practically the complete opposite of his family. Not only had he been sorted into Gryffindor, but he had also "lowered himself" to become friends with a werewolf – but, no, James would not think about that, because thinking about that would mean thinking about Remus and that was not something he could handle right then.

If he was truly honest with himself, he had to admit that if Sirius was no normal Black, then Snape was no normal Slytherin. He reasoned that if the Gryffindors, who were generally considered a fun-loving sort, had teased Lily so mercilessly about her scandalous friendship with sulky Severus, then the Slytherins, who were definitely not the fun-loving sort, had probably tortured Snape about it. If Snape had endured that for a Gryffindor – a Muggleborn girl nonetheless – then he shared at least something in common with Sirius, who was nothing if not loyal.  

But then James thought of that horrible moment at the end of the last school year and how Lily had reacted to being called a Mudblood by her best friend. He thought of how after that he never saw them eating lunch together or doing homework on the grounds and he thought about how Lily had started to partner with Mary MacDonald in Potions instead of Snape.

Then Snape was definitely not like Sirius, who would never betray a friend like Snape had betrayed Lily.

_But didn't he_? A small voice inside his head nagged, and he thought it must be the same one who believed his best friend deserved to be expelled and to never eat a peanut butter sandwich again.

And James found he could not skirt around the subject anymore, not now when Dumbledore was looking at him with those piercing eyes, not now when the allegations had died and all that was left was truth and its consequences, not now when he remembered every single detail of that night vividly, from the moment Peter had burst into their dormitory worried about Sirius' newest prank to when he had grabbed Snape and tried to pull him backwards as the frightening roar reached both their ears.

Dumbledore calmly folded his hands together and placed them on his desk. "Mr. Potter, as I wholly believe you had no notion of Mr. Black's intentions and only wished to prevent harm, you are excused without punishment; you may return to your dormitory. I only ask that you to speak of this situation to no one."

James stood. "Yes, Professor." He did not look at his best friend, who had made mistakes many times before, and had now made a mistake that could change everything. He did not look at his rival, who had hated him many times before, and now hated him to an extent that could change everything.

He left the two not-so-different people with nothing between them to stop them from murdering each other. The still-working part of his mind registered that Snape had begun to yell again and that Dumbledore was requesting to speak with Sirius privately.

At the top of the stone spiral staircase that led down to the gargoyle, James paused. The oak door had closed behind him, and he could hear the low murmur of voices from within, and yet he did not want to return to the dormitory. He did not want to tell Peter what had happened, and he most certainly did not want to go to the Hospital Wing tomorrow to tell Remus what had happened.

"Are you intending to block the staircase until werewolves are generally accepted into society, or are you actually planning on descending? Because I can assure you, the former will never occur," Snape said from behind him.

James didn't turn around. Weariness haunted him; he showed no indication of shock even as the Slytherin's voice reached his ear. Instead he could feel shame rising in the pit of his stomach. For what seemed like the first time in their friendship, him and Sirius had had a disagreement about right and wrong. Just being alone with Snape – who had witnessed their discrepancy – evoked that shame all over again.

Not wanting to think about that anymore, and definitely not wanting to arouse Snape's anger with a witty comeback, James opened his mouth. He knew there might never be another opportunity to do it, so he softly said, "I'm sorry."

There was a brief moment of silence that followed, in which neither Slytherin nor Gryffindor moved. Then the calm before the storm ended, and James felt a hand whirl him around and push him against the wall that enclosed the stairs. And then their faces were mere inches apart, and all he could see were Snape's eyes and their empty black color, and all he could think of was that time Peter had spilled a puddle of ink on his robes and it had looked as though he was splattered with dark blood.

"Where do you get the right to say you're sorry? Where do you get the right to apologize after you save my life?" he hissed, enunciating each word. "Where do you get the right to fucking save my life in the first place?"

Snape paused and regained his breath; then he took a step backwards and adjusted his robes as if they'd been somewhat rustled. He looked impeccably collected, as though he had not just lost his temper and screamed at his biggest enemy. "That's just it, Potter," he continued, his voice laced with resentment. "You don't have the right, not when you only saved me to protect your little monster. So don't pretend like you're some sort of hero for what you did."

James wondered if this was what five years of mutual hatred led up to: if this was supposed to be the climax or the resolution. He hesitated before starting down the stairs, and in that moment, watching Snape turn away, he knew he was wrong to think the story was ending. This was only the beginning, but it was the beginning of something new.

As he begun to descend, James replied, not entirely sure it was the right thing to say and not entirely sure if he would be listened to.

"You're wrong, you know. Despite everything these past years, I know you are still human, and I would never stand by and let any human die an undeserving death. I'm not sorry that I saved your life, but I'm sorry that it was endangered in the first place, even if you don't believe me."

Severus Snape would forever remember those words as the ones that indebted him to James Potter.

 

Friday, June 3rd, 1977

 

"You wanted to see me, Professor?"

Dumbledore was sitting behind his desk scribbling on a piece of parchment when James entered. Fawkes let out a pleasant chirp to greet him, as if trying to draw attention to his recent rebirth.

The Headmaster glanced up at his entrance and smiled. "Yes, thank you for coming, Mr. Potter. Please come in and make yourself comfortable"

James obliged, recalling the last time he had been there with a shudder. He still found it a miracle that students hadn't started running at Remus with pitchforks and torches, and he couldn't help but wonder just how Dumbledore managed to keep Snape quiet. As though his Professor sensed where his thoughts roamed, he held out a goblet filled with peppermint candies as means of distraction

"Peppermint?"

"No thank you, sir," he said, looking at the old man peculiarly. He had never experienced firsthand the Headmaster's bizarre infatuation with candy, but most students at Hogwarts found it rather humorous.

Dumbledore popped one into his mouth and chuckled. "Professor McGonagall has just been telling me about your end-of-the-year festivities. I do not wish to keep you from them for long, but I have a matter of importance to discuss with you."

James felt as though one minute he was breathing out happiness and ease and the next he was inhaling sudden fear that something was terribly wrong. He unknowingly leaned closer towards his Professor with widened eyes.

"Is there something wrong? Are my parents okay? Was there another attack?" he frantically asked. He struggled to remember whether he had ever received a response to his last letter, which had been filled with nothing but happy exclamations about exams ending. He wondered if his parents had died associating him with the last thing he had written them, which he was fairly sure had been: 'P.S. Remus and Peter are coming over mid-July'.

"Mr. Potter," Dumbledore said, interrupting his rapid chain of thoughts, "there is nothing wrong; your parents are fine, and there has not been another attack, at least not to my knowledge."

James visibly relaxed, allowing relief to enter his lungs as he sunk back into the chair. A second of silence passed, in which he awkwardly scratched his back and realized how dramatic the old man must think him. "Er...sorry about that," he mumbled.

"You have no need to apologize," the Headmaster said, and his eyes seemed almost eerie without their telltale twinkle. "It is in times like these that believing the worst is considered understandable, as believing the best can more often than not lead to disappointment."

He paused for a moment, as if utterly aware of how uncomfortable his student felt discussing the on-goings of the wizarding world. "But that is neither here nor there; I have invited you here to discuss the matter of Head Boy next year."

James smiled a little unsurely. "Are you considering Remus for the position? Professor, I think he really deserves it and I'm sure we can find some way around the full moon thing; maybe you could schedule the meetings and patrols so that they didn't interfere – I mean, isn't that what you did this year?"

Dumbledore held up a hand, motioning for him to stop; something about the twitch of his mouth as he did it made it seem like he had rather expected such a reaction.

"Mr. Lupin and I have already discussed the matter; we have both agreed that offering you the position of Head Boy would be most beneficial to the school," he said, as though he was simply conversing about Quidditch or the weather over tea and crumpets.

Bewildered, James looked at the wizard sitting across from him and wondered, not for the first time, if he was as bonkers as they all said he was. He was not certain that he had even heard him right; the inquisitive furrowing of ashen eyebrows indicated that yes, his Professor was actually asking him to be Head Boy.

He shook his head, as though trying to chase away such ludicrous ideas. "I don't understand, sir. Does Remus not want the position? Wouldn't it be best for you choose one of the other male sixth year Prefects then?"

"Mr. Lupin has realized that, after the incident at the beginning of this year, it would be best if he did not draw attention to himself, lest someone more recalcitrant than Snape discovers his issue."

James felt a flurry of guilt whirling inside of him, and he firmly tried to suppress it. He had no reason to feel guilty about what had happened, not when he had been the one to stop it.  Before he could say anything about it, Dumbledore continued, "I do not think any of the other Prefects to be qualified for the position."

"Professor, I do not think I am qualified to be Head Boy," he said, speaking each word as though he was discussing matters with a particularly slow child.

Dumbledore looked at him as though he were a particularly difficult puzzle to solve. Then, he began to speak, "On the contrary, Mr. Potter, you are perfectly qualified to be Head Boy; in fact, you are precisely what this school needs right now. You have shown me already in this meeting that you are aware of what goes on outside this school. I will not pretend to conceal it from you, and I will not pretend that there will be a happy ending. Voldemort poses a threat to the wizarding world and everything it stands for, and he is not a threat to be taken lightly.

"I'm afraid that, even in this school, war will make things fall apart. I cannot prevent students from joining Voldemort's side, but I will do what I can to keep those not on his side from falling apart. The students in this school need their Head Boy to be someone who stands against everything Voldemort stands for, who perceives the true difference between good and evil, and who is not afraid to fight."

James sat in silence for a few moments, fidgeting with his hands as he mulled over all he had heard. He knew that Adalbert Pennyfeather did not believe in true evil, that Davy Gludgeon was more likely to run away than fight after he finished seventh year, and that Severus Snape would not do for Head Boy at all. He knew he was needed, now more than ever before.

He looked up, and caught Dumbledore's gaze before nodding his assent. "Thank you, Professor," he said softly. "I hope I will not disappoint you."

"I hope you and Ms. Evans will work well together."

James Potter would forever remember those words as the ones that truly propelled him into the life of Lily Evans.

 

Tuesday, May 30th, 1978

 

Fawkes was not inside Dumbledore's office this time; there were no amusing instruments lounging around the room either. The goblet that was usually filled with candy had but a few forgotten pieces left, and the Headmaster was just placing a Pensieve back into the cupboard when James entered.

"Good evening, James," he greeted pleasantly, "please have a seat."

"Good evening, Professor."

The Headmaster closed the cabinet and lowered himself back into his seat, seeming to smile when he caught sight of the Head Boy badge still pinned to his student's robe. He waved a welcoming hand at his candy goblet, not at all surprised to see a simple head shake in response.

James watched patiently as Dumbledore cast his eyes around the room, looking almost as though he was checking for someone or something. When he was satisfied, he turned back to his guest and began speaking in a sepulchral tone, "Gideon and Fabian Prewett died last night."

Neither of them said another word, and James recalled a pair of redheaded brothers he had noticed several times at Ministry gatherings but never actually spoken to. Despite their frequency, the latest killings of Voldemort still shocked him; this was no exception.

Each new death printed in the paper horrified him; each time all he could think was that every person who died must've had a family: a mother, a father, a brother, a sister, a husband, a wife, a son, a daughter. One death meant much more than another killing; it meant hurting everyone who ever loved that person, and James could not imagine the excruciating pain those people experienced.

He did not understand why the Professor would call him into his office to inform him of the latest news. It seemed peculiar, when they had only ever spoken briefly that year in the corridors about Head duties. They had never touched the subject of the war, not since the last time he had visited the inside of the office.

The Headmaster stared into space for a few minutes, seeming thoughtful, until he spoke again, "The Prewetts were targeted because they were involved in an organization. Do you know who that organization is against, James?"

"Voldemort?" he ventured, inwardly speculating the purpose to their conversation.

Dumbledore looked at him with a very serious expression molding his features. "Yes, it is against Voldemort. I am here to offer you an invitation to join this organization once you've left Hogwarts this year. It is not something that I will be offering to everyone, and if you do not want to join, you will be Obliviated."

James swallowed nervously. His throat felt strangely dry, and the Dumbledore seated across from him did not remind him of the Dumbledore he saw at the feasts, who had twinkling eyes and speeches specked with rubbish. 

The Dumbledore-impersonator continued speaking, "I cannot tell you we are close to stopping Voldemort, or that we have many accomplishments to speak of – but we are giving people hope, and that in itself is an accomplishment."

He wondered whether Sirius and Remus and Peter and Lily were all being invited too; he wondered how he could do it without them, or how he would keep it a secret from them if he did. A part of him wished they were being asked as a whole, so they could decide together that it was all or nothing with them.

James studied the old man sitting across from him, imagining each one of his friends in his chair. He tried to picture what they all would decide to do.

He imagined Sirius, overcome with indecision as he decided whether or not to oppose his family in war, and he imagined him not joining. He imagined Remus, fearing Voldemort for wanting to use his furry little problem as a weapon and not wanting to endanger anyone else, and he imagined him not joining. He imagined Peter, afraid of disappointing his family and his friends, but more afraid of dying, and he imagined him not joining. And finally, he imagined Lily, feeling as though she was just another Muggleborn causing problems for the wizarding world, and he imagined her not joining.

And then, James felt stupid. He brushed away all the pictures that floated through his head, portraying his friends as nothing more than cowards who ran away. He brushed away all his doubts with them, because these were his Gryffindor friends: the bravest people he knew.

"I want to join."

Albus Dumbledore would forever remember those words as the ones that saved the wizarding world.

 

 

 

 

 

 

  


 

 

 

 


End file.
